Sunset Volume 2: High Noon

Natal, Brazil.

They were at Jonathan’s for two nights. They slept on blankets folded into cushions on the floor and on the couch and in the guest room bed. During the day, Shvedov dozed on and off, trying to catch up on sleep. From what he could tell during the moments he was awake, Gareth paced and Reeve didn't sleep much, Hannah did nothing but sleep, and Alex, with his freshly dyed black hair, whined about not being at the beach.

Their host was quiet, with an almost amused tolerance of this intrusion, giving them as much space as he could with six people crammed into a two-bedroom condo. He took a trip to his office to get Alex an actual sling not made out of a bedsheet and loaded Hannah up with antibiotics, changing the packing in her wound a couple times a day. By the afternoon of the second day, he announced she was well enough to travel, and Reeve and Alyosha agreed that they’d leave that evening. They had been there too long already.

But first, Alyosha needed to refuel the plane. Jon offered to drive him to the strip to get things ready while the others packed up. He poked his head into the guest room to see if Gareth would come, but he’d finally fallen asleep beside a dozing Hannah.

He sent a thought to Reeve asking what he thought they should do.

Let Gareth rest. I need to work some timing out with my next contact, but we should leave in a couple of hours.

He went back out to the main living space, where Jonathan was standing by the door and fiddling with his keys. Alex was on the couch, headphones in, bobbing his head to music.

“Hey,” Reeve said, pointing to his ears.

Alex switched off his music. “What’s up?”

“I need you to go with Alyosha to get the plane ready. I’ve got to set up some communications with our next stop and I don’t want to wake Gareth up.”

“Gee, thanks for making it clear I’m your last choice,” he smirked.

Reeve rolled his eyes at Alyosha. “Just trying to keep everyone safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I can go be Alyosha’s bodyguard,” he grinned.

“I’d go but—”

“I get it, Mr. Over-Protective.” Alex stood up and stretched.

Reeve looked to Alyosha, who shrugged and checked his watch.

“Just be careful.” Reeve mussed Alex’s hair as he walked past.

Alex rolled his eyes this time. “I’m not your foster anymore. That whole system is gone.” He slipped on his sneakers and set his gun into his belt holster. “Now we’re all just one badass team.” Reeve raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t suppress a smile. Jon shifted his weight nervously and Alyosha recognized a look of discomfort watching a kid strap on a firearm like it was a natural thing. Alex was scowling as he draped a light over-shirt over his shoulders to conceal the weapon in the heat.

Reeve looked at Alyosha and touched his mind lightly, letting him feel the pressure in his head, just to show him he’d be close.

“One hour,” Alyosha said with a slight tilt of the head. “I will call if we’ll be longer.”

“Yeah, cause we’ll be sunbathing,” Alex sang with a smile, opening the front door. Reeve shook his head at him and they were gone.

Alyosha did his best to calm a mounting nervousness as Jonathan drove them through the unorganized flurry of motorbikes, buses, and four-wheelers carting around tourists holding tightly onto their broad hats. Alex gazed out the backseat window for a long time.

“So, what do we need to do?” he asked.

Alyosha turned in his seat. “I need to make sure we are full up on fuel and do a pre-flight check.”

Alex got a wicked look on his face. “Where are we going?”

Alyosha didn’t answer for a beat and Jonathan gave him a quick, questioning glance. “Reeve has good reasons for not telling you.”

“But you know?”

“Yes.”

Alex let out a small frustrated groan. A moment passed.

“So Entropy, huh?” Alex asked bluntly.

Alyosha couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes.” Alex really was just like Reeve had described, all the times he had complained through that reluctant smile of his.

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A silence hung heavy in the humid air. Shvedov squinted into the sun. “Entropy is a different organization with knacked people. I used to work for them.”

“Oh.” Jonathan’s brow creased, but he kept his eyes on the road.

“That’s it?” Alex exclaimed, leaning forward. “But what was it like for you? What did you do there?”

Alyosha was starting to pick up on how the kid operated—his boisterous affectation was covering some anxiety, he was sure of it. “I was a pilot.”

“Yeah, I already knew that,” Alex said, a slight, annoyed whine entering his voice. “I want to know more, though. Sol gives us such totally vague details about Entropy, it’s practically useless. I Read some…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing on, “pretty scary stuff from Gareth, but he doesn’t like talking about it.”

“What makes you think I will talk about it, then?” Alyosha asked. He wondered how long it would be until Alex Read him, too.

Alex scratched an itch on his cheek. “Because you enjoy being a decent human being.” The kid wore humor like armor.

“Ah,” Alyosha chuckled. Alex watched him expectantly, then rolled his eyes, giving up with a huff. The muscles in Jon’s jaw were tight and Shvedov tried to catch his eye with a reassuring smile.

Jonathan turned left off the main throughway and onto a red dirt road. The buildings immediately changed from hotels and flashy shops to squat, brick homes with burnt orange tiled roofs, overgrown with scraggly weeds. Every yard was fenced off either by tall cream-colored stucco walls, chain-link, old and weathered planks of repurposed wood, or sometimes all three cobbled together to fill in the crumbling gaps. If it weren’t for the green-headed short palms, the landscape would look like it was straight out of old sepia-toned films, between the brick and tile and the hard red dirt road.

“Right, you’ve only been here in the dark,” Jonathan muttered as they stared out the window. “This is what’s outside the tourist district.”

Alex’s head popped up between the front seats, nearly on their shoulders. “Feeling more at home, Alyosha?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You are a funny guy,” he said, glancing at him before putting a hand on the ceiling to steady himself as Jonathan maneuvered to avoid a deep rut. There were heaps of dead, dried out plants and garbage everywhere. “But also, a little, yes.” Alyosha grinned, unable to help it. He watched Alex laugh, his wide smile wrinkling the scarring on his cheek, but his teeth were mostly straight and young-looking.

Alyosha picked at some grit under his nails and called over his shoulder. “So, what do you know about Entropy?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure. Gareth’s History is a nightmare, but I don’t really have any context for it and I try not to Read any more than what accidentally just happens sometimes. He won’t talk about it, so I don’t have much to go on. And what I do have to go on, I don’t like thinking about.” He looked out the window, watching the scenery go by, and continued. “They’re violent. But so is Sol. They have agents who take orders from a central leader-guy, but so do we—did we.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. They kill people. Hannah kills people. She also sucks at dominos. It’s just a thing agents do. I guess Entropy seems like Sol but with other types besides knacked people. Until a few days ago, I would have said they were scarier than Sol, but now I don’t know anymore.” Alex’s mouth tightened into a line. “I don’t know.”

“They’re not like Sol.”

“They both want to kill you,” he offered.

Alyosha ignored him. “Why does Sol order hits?”

“Well, now I don’t fucking know. I thought it was to protect the existence of knacked people, but now it seems like it was just for power. So how are they different?”

“Why do you think Entropy orders hits?”

“Because their pilots don’t know how to answer simple questions?”

“Entropy doesn’t really order specific hits.”

“Entropy doesn’t—then what the hell was the point of all this back and forth?”

“I don’t think they really care who is killed. That’s why they are so hard to predict. What matters is that someone or, better, many people are killed.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t actually make any sense. What’s the point? They’re just dicks?”

“It won’t make any sense to you or me. It can’t. We’re not five-hundred years old.”

“Sure, but not everyone who works there is ancient. Some of them are human or knacked like me. Why do they do it?”

Jonathan coughed and shifted in his seat. “I know this isn’t my conversation, but what the hell are you talking about, five-hundred years old?” Alyosha could see his grip tightening on the wheel and a muscle jumped by his temple.

Alyosha tried to keep his voice gentle. “Honestly, and I mean this, you do not want to know. I wouldn't even talk about it here, but he needs to know these things and Reeve hasn't told him. You’ll probably never run into Entropy but you,” he turned to Alex, “you might.”

Every trace of lightheartedness had left Alex’s face and when he looked at Alyosha, his eyes didn't blink or shift. He didn't look young anymore. This is what was under the armor. “Why won't Reeve tell me?”

“He does not want you to be afraid. Entropy is good at fear. It’s how they control people who think they have no other options. Then there are some who are cruel and would kill people for fun if they thought they could get away with it. Entropy nurtures that kind of person.”

“Ew.” Alex slid back to sit in the seat, facade slipping back into place. It reminded Alyosha a bit of himself when he was that age. “And Reeve doesn't want me to know Entropy is basically sadists because it might scare me?”

“Probably. It scares me.”

Alyosha saw Alex blink in almost a flinch before his eyes scanned the car floor and upward, eventually settling to look back out the window. Ahead of them, rising like mountains, were the sand dunes. Bone-white against the horizon but for narrow green caps, they looked as if the land was trying to mirror the rolling clouds.

“So, did you try to kill Reeve when you met him?” He had that mischievous tone back in his voice.

“Yes, of course,” Alyosha smiled. “He broke into my place. You want to know how close I came to killing him?”

“What, like the length of a football field?”

“More like six.” He could tell Alex liked that.

They rounded another bend and the road turned to sand. There were no more homes. Salt-weathered wooden posts strung with wire lined the side of the road, marking the path as the sands blew and shifted. It was so empty and white it reminded Alyosha of hills covered deep in snow, offset only by a long spine of wooden stakes.

The runway up ahead in the daylight was just a long, flat strip, marked off by the black arcs of half buried tires every few feet. There was a stone outbuilding with only three walls. A few of the neon painted ultra-lights had gone since they’d landed, and there were a couple more single-engine props and cars parked off to the side. The curves of his Cessna might have blended in against the white sand, if it wasn’t so damn big next to everything else. Somewhere under all the drifting sand, there was a concrete disk holding the fueling station and he knew finding it wasn’t going to be any fun at all. Jon pulled up beside the other cars and parked; he wasted no time in getting out of the car.

“So what do we do while you’re getting gas?” Alex asked, fanning himself. “Stand right behind you peering over your shoulder? Want me to wash your windows? ”

Alyosha shook his head, laughing. “Nyet. This will be very boring. Just stay in eyeshot with Jonathan.”

Alex scanned the horizon. “Yeah, that will be less boring.”

Alyosha popped his door open and got out.

“Hey,” Alex called, getting out and looking over the roof at him. “Wherever we’re flying next, can I sit in the cockpit with you?”

“Sure.” He tried to return his playful look. “I think you will like the view.”

---

Alex watched Alyosha walk down the runway toward the plane. It was quiet. The sand sliding under his feet was so much looser than the packed dirt back in Beatty. He zig-zagged his shoe through it, drawing a long snake. He sighed through his nose. His big assignment was to stand around and wait. Dr. Mabry walked around the front of the car to lean against the side facing Alex.

“How’s the shoulder?”

Alex shrugged his good one. “It’s eh. I’m fine.” Alex fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket with his right hand.

Jonathan took a step forward. “You want help with that?”

Alex shook his head. “I got it.” He leaned his back against the SUV next to them, resting a foot up on the tire of the doctor’s car and untangling his headphones. Jonathan rolled his eyes just enough that Alex could barely catch it, the sort of look Reeve gave him like forty times a day. He meant to say something about it, but even before he could hit play, he felt his Knack slipping into the sun-warmed metal of the SUV’s hood, back to when different hands were slamming the door shut.

A man with cropped, dark hair closes the door and slowly sweeps his gaze across the airfield. There are two others with him, a woman and a shorter man squinting into the wind. They don’t speak, just look at the skyline. They are dressed in all black. There is a shoulder holster over the closest man’s shirt and a thigh holster strapped to his opposite leg. The others walk around the front of the car to him. They both have guns, the shorter man with a stocky shotgun. The first man motions toward the end of the runway where the planes are parked and the others nod.

The sweat that broke across Alex’s body soaked his clothes and left him feeling even hotter than before. A pounding deep in his belly startled him before he realized it was his own heartbeat and not some scalding writhing memory boring into his core. He quickly scanned the airfield, but was too far away to see well enough. Alex couldn’t remember how long he had been leaning against the SUV. Alyosha had nearly reached their jet. His voice ran dry and tight. Too fucking far. Alex brought his foot up to climb and stand on the narrow ledge of their car’s open window. He scrabbled, one-armed, onto the roof of the car, only remotely feeling Jonathan’s hands pulling at him. Jon’s repeated protests slurred together with the earthshaking pound of his heartbeat as the blood snapped in his ears. He wrenched his shaking left hand out of its sling.

Straightening to stand up on top of the car, Alex searched the grouping of smaller planes. They were there. Just behind the nose of a red prop that Alyosha had already walked past, a man was standing with his gun trained on Alyosha’s back. Alex opened his mouth to shout then fired a shot instead. The sound of it rung out, hollow in the open space. Alex didn’t remember drawing his gun. Alyosha ducked to his knees, lightning fast, covering his head.

The man with the gun dropped down behind the red plane. Alex was pretty sure he'd hit him and he stood, shocked for a moment.

“Jesus Christ!” Jonathan yelled, his voice cracking. He was hunched over, but stupidly stood upright, reaching up to urge him off the roof of the car. Alex meant to tell him to get down, bark it the way that Gareth would, but his lips and tongue were stuck full of pins and needles.

Alex caught sight of the other two agents as they straightened from hiding behind aircraft. They looked at him with the same sense of shock he was feeling. It was too long a moment for everyone to be still, when there were this many weapons in hands. He saw Alyosha scrambling for cover. The woman was watching Alyosha too, glancing back and forth between them. In that brief space of time, Alex thought, well at least it looks like they don't want to kill me. Then the shorter agent raised a gun in his direction and the moment ended.

Alex dropped to his hands, sliding his knees down the back windshield onto the trunk. The hot metal burned his stomach and his shoulder spasmed and throbbed in protest.

The sound of gunfire exploded in front of him. Peering over the roof, he watched the female agent walking steadily toward the aircraft, firing. The other agent was still moving carefully around the other plains, shotgun aimed in his direction. Alex gritted his teeth and leaned on his arms to take a couple of shots, which glanced off metal. The recoil reverberating through his bad shoulder felt like it was turning his whole body sour as old milk. There was a raucous of more gunfire beyond them as Alyosha returned fire from somewhere.

The agent with the shotgun moved slowly, his route indirect instead of walking straight at him. Alex could see he was going to try to get behind him, flank him, and ass-up on the trunk of a car was a bad place to be caught. Alex wiggled down off the car and took cover behind it. He fired a shot around the bumper. The agent was moving faster now that Alex had dropped into hiding, and he had swung around nearly behind the car. If Alex didn’t move, the guy would have a clear shot soon. But at least that meant the agent had to forgo cover himself. Alex popped his head up again and fired, missing.

Alex swore under his breath. Out loud he hissed, “Move!” to Jonathan and crawled past him to the nose of the SUV, mindful of the other agent, who was distracted by Alyosha. Raising a cloud of sand, Jonathan eased the door to the backseat of his car open and scuttled inside.

Swearing and squinting through the grit, Alex saw the agent come into his line of sight and took a deep breath, preparing to fire, but the agent got off a shot before he could get a good fix and the concussive sound of it hitting the door next to him locked his muscles. Movement beside him made him glance over. An object the size of a sugar packet had fallen into the sand. Alex picked it up. It was a bean bag. A fucking crowd suppression bullet. He figured things could’ve been worse, but not much.

Another flurry of shots behind him snapped him out of it and he scrambled around the SUV for cover. He could see Alyosha wrapping himself tight against the jet’s wheel, trying to reload. The agent advancing on Shvedov was still firing. Beyond that wheel, the closest cover was that falling-apart cement building, but that was a good fifty feet of open ground and he'd never make it. Alyosha was in trouble. Alex put the female agent in his sights, gauging if he could make the shot at this distance, but he heard a car door open and a tangle of pleading words in Jonathan's voice that didn't sound like human language. The pop of two shots made him jump and the sound stopped. Alex swallowed, thinking of the bean bag and the loud snap it had made against metal. Then the agent’s footsteps were moving toward him again. Jonathan was going to have some nasty bruises, and Alex figured that, unless he wanted them too, he needed to be anywhere but where that agent thought he was going to be. He moved as quietly as he could around the tan Buick next to the SUV, hoping to come out around and behind the agent so he could end this.

It was the last car in the row. Things were going to get real complicated real soon. Alex crept low, elbows dragging painful ruts into the sand. When he came around the back of the car, the agent was waiting. This time, he didn’t hesitate and Alex fired from his crouched position hitting him center mass and then again high on one side of his neck. The agent staggered, made a deep choking sound, and dropped his left hand from the shotgun. He didn’t fall. Alex watched the skin around the bullet hole in his chest tremble as it spit out the slug and his neck healed over. The agent started to gather himself, breathing hard, hacking up blood.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Alex ground out, shuffling backward a couple feet. He aimed carefully and took another shot, hitting his right hand and knocking the shotgun to the ground and then he took that time to goddamn run. He got to their car, ripping the driver's side door open and half climbing in to find the keys weren’t in the ignition.

Alex yelled, “Keys!” as he climbed the rest of the way into the car, pivoting to lean into the back seat and his breath caught. Jonathan was on the floor of the car on his side, nearly on his belly, with two clear gunshot holes in his upper back. His white shirt was soaked dark and he didn't move a millimeter to breathe. It didn't make sense.

Alex looked up. Alyosha had managed to get from the nose of the plane to the staggered line of smaller aircraft. The female agent advancing on him had blood running down one arm. Alex saw Alyosha register that he was in the driver's seat and nodded to him. Alex blinked, breathing hard through his mouth as he tried to process what Alyosha needed him to do. Leaning out the open door, he sent off some shaky coverfire and Alyosha made a darting run for the group of cars. Alex’s ammo ran out and he was struggling with a spare cartridge (his only one) when he saw Alyosha get hit. The shot spun him like a top to the ground, landing facedown. Alex’s blood went cold. The agent fired a couple more half-hearted shots in Alyosha’s direction and turned to Alex.

Something that could only have been a stick of dynamite went off against Alex’s lower back, throwing him against the steering wheel. His stomach churned with pain and he gagged. He whipped his head around to see the other agent, bloodied but recovered, standing behind him and pumping the slide of his shotgun to reload. Ignoring the searing burn running down his legs, Alex clattered across the front seats on his hands and knees, and then ungracefully dumped himself out the passenger side. Choking on a whoop of air from the impact, he dove under the car and slithered for cover. But there wasn’t a plan anymore. He didn’t know where he was going.

On the other side, he popped up to try the door of the SUV. Locked. He gave another desperate crawl underneath, hiding behind the oversized tires. Alex’s body was moving, making choices, taking actions. His mind was seven steps behind him, watching Alyosha tumble to the ground. Jonathan bloodied. Those images began to get crowded out by the Story seeping in around the edges when he wasn’t paying attention. It was nighttime. It was day out. He heard roaring engines and laughing kids. Disoriented, Alex wasn’t sure what was happening as the sand, shadowed by the cover of the SUV, whirled past him, flowing away like a river. When the sun hit him, Alex felt the hand on his ankle yanking him out from under the car, then the agent throwing himself onto Alex’s back. Alex thrashed with feral scratching at the arm that came around his neck, choking off the blood to his brain. His eyeballs felt like they were being blown up like balloons. The weight crushing down on his bruised back pressed the air from his lungs and the blackening edges of his vision shimmered like heatwaves on pavement. And then nothing.

***